Kodachrome (2017)

Kodachrome is special because it turns a simple road trip into a quietly moving meditation on what we keep, what we lose, and what we never manage to say out loud until it’s almost too late. Ed Harris gives Benjamin Ryder a bristly, magnetic humanity that makes every scene feel lived-in, while Jason Sudeikis surprises with grounded dramatic warmth and Elizabeth Olsen brings a steady, compassionate presence that keeps the film from tipping into melodrama. The vibe is gentle and wistful, full of small-town stops, sharp-edged banter, and the ache of an analog world fading into digital—comforting in its rhythm, but honest about the messiness of family. It’s not for viewers craving big twists or high stakes action, but if you’re open to a character-driven dramedy with real emotional payoff, this one lingers like a photograph you didn’t realize you needed.

Kodachrome is aiming for a bittersweet road-trip dramedy about aging, regret, and the messy business of forgiving family, with the analog-to-digital backdrop doing some quiet thematic work. The problem is it often plays like a checklist of familiar beats—bickering relatives, scenic pit stops, predictable softening—so if you’re allergic to reconciliation formulas and tidy emotional payoffs, you’ll feel the gears turning. Ed Harris brings real bite and weariness, and Jason Sudeikis is solid when the film lets him sit in discomfort instead of pushing for easy sentiment, but the script can lean a little too hard on “heartwarming” when the situation is actually raw. If you want a gentle, actor-driven tearjerker with nice Americana and a nostalgic hook, it’ll do the job; if you’re hoping for something sharper, stranger, or genuinely surprising, this probably isn’t your stop.